A Declaration of Love
by QUeenVi3515
Summary: These are but some of the few things I know about him for it was never easy to understand my master.


Time to focus some attention on Seras

I own nothing, Kouta Hirano created Hellsing.

A Declaration of Love.

A memory of my master: When he feeds on medical blood, he sucks it straight from the packet, which he punctures with one of his fangs like a puncher. He feeds voraciously: most of the time he prefers –AB, a rare type; but I once heard him mention that there's nothing like drinking a virgin's blood straight from the source.

I can't help but wonder how many virgins he had.

His custom-made guns are big; he held double –handed weapons in the shape of a cross. He never showed mercy to his enemies, not once since I met him.

These are but some of the few things I know about him for it was never easy to understand my master.

When he was still a mortal he was once a king, a devout Christian one- who used impalement to torture his enemies.

He waged wars against the Turks; campaigns of bloodbath to protect his kingdom, his people, to fight for his faith- Yet at the end, he led his army to their sure deaths in conquests of slaughter, allowed the citizens of his kingdom to be butchered like cattle.

He was once a king but he is the most faithful servant I've known- For he is fiercely loyal to Integra. He killed for her, calls her his master, addresses her with the same title he has, and respects her. A human and a woman; This I do not comprehend and it once made me very jealous.

Most of the time, he has a liking in comparing himself to the devil; though he claims that he always sees himself as a monster.

He sees himself as a monster but had bitterly shed tears before Father Alexander's crumbling body.

He disdains humans but nonetheless envies their humanity; admires their strength in overcoming and enduring their weakness and in facing their inevitable aging.

His clothes are that of a Victorian gentleman. Though, his attire never changes.

I like his velvet red cloak a lot-It made him look regal, like the royalty he once was.

Once, He touched me in an almost loving manner from that time when I lay dying in the puddle of my own blood on the floor from the wound in my left breast, the size of a clenched fist. It was caused by the shot he aimed at my chest, a bullet intended to get to the vampire priest's heart.

He took my head in his lap, brushed my hair from my face and trailed his tongue on my chin and lips, licking the crimson fluid that trailed from my mouth; like a cat cleaning its kitten.

He asked me if I wanted to come with him, I said yes.

His voice is deep and masculine. It has the subtlest touch of an unidentified accent in it. Integra told me it was Romanian.

He is tall and slim yet well built.

His skin is perfectly pale and flawless like gleaming alabaster, his hair black as raven.

Maybe if he spent more time with me he could have loved me.

Seras can see her master's shadows. She can see his familiar Baskerville with all his six red eyes open. She can see him wearing his period attire the long, red velvet cloak whipping against the wind; looking like the God of war himself. He towered over his enemies who were injured and bloodied on the ground; laughing that manic laugh, bloodlust evident in his gleaming red eyes. His arms broke the cross-like formation hold on his weapon to aim and shoot at the pathetically grovelling creatures in the ground who call themselves vampire. She almost felt her lifeless heart skip a non-existent heartbeat as she caught sight of his malicious grin, a grin that only managed to twist his chiselled and patrician features alluringly.

A noble through and through; in his past life and in his present existence as well- A spectacularly handsome and undeniably powerful male.

Seras can see her master. She can. She can. He is intimate as he can be. He does love her, she knew. He loves her in the way he loved that woman more than a century ago; he love her together with Integra. She feels it deep within her being; the being he turned her into. He cares, though he was very careful not to make it obvious.

Then.

How my head spins with confusion. I don't understand, I ask and ask. I say-have you already been defeated, I say-why did you vanish, I say-where are you, what are you doing. More importantly I ask- When will you come back Master.

He never answers. I ask these questions repeatedly like a child as I sit in the filthy floor of the manor's dungeons and stare at his closed yet empty coffin; the small block of cement with his seal's imprint, on top of its lid.

He never answers. I don't understand why he never answers.

Though this did not matter for I know, I believe that he will come back. He just can't leave that way.

He just can't leave me and Integra that way.

I will wait for him and I will endure centuries of waiting if I have to, just to see him return.


End file.
